SCU
by Ztin
Summary: AU. Welcome to Sword Coast University... and the beginning of the rest of your lives.
1. Orientation

**SCU**

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to whomever really owns it. Though I am too lazy to point out who those people are, they know who they are.

A/N: This is just to get all the damn teeny-bopper crap out of my head

**Prologue**

**Orientation**

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Welcome to Sword Coast University… and the beginning of the rest of your lives. I would like to be the first to congratulate you on taking your first steps towards fulfilling your hopes and dreams and I and all the others here are honoured that you've all decided on choosing SCU to help you attain them.

Before we begin your orientation I'd like to take this opportunity on clarifying why you've made the right decision in coming here. Located along the Sea of Swords between Baldur's Gate and Amn, Sword Coast University was founded over five hundred years ago, in 1243 DR and despite the turbulent times that have passed since then, we are still providing quality education and training and ranked the number one post secondary institution this side of Faerûn. In fact some of the most celebrated individuals the world has ever known have graduated from these very halls, people such as Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun, Drizzt Do'Urden, Bruenor Battlehammer, Cattie-brie, Napoleon Dynamite and even our current head dean of 104 years, Elminster Aumar.

Perhaps what you've noticed is that SCU is on a strict non-discrimination policy, which is probably why most of you are here. No one is excluded because of race, alignment or profession. If you're a half-giant wanting to be thief, come on in just don't touch anything. If you're a drow and wish to worship Ilmater we've got a prayer hall across campus. This university was founded upon the basis that all should have a chance at their chosen career regardless of allegiance or past grievances. This is a pivotal reason why every new school year more and more students enrol because not only are you learning how to swing a sword or cast a spell but you're also given a chance to discover more about the person beside you.

Despite what you may think about the melting pot boiling over, SCU has an impressive record of lowest fatalities than any other school in all of Abeir-Toril… the only exception being that matter (and I would like to add that it was completely out of our hands) with the halfling riots five decades ago. That reminds me, I would like to make clear that since that incident the staff has since requested that all acts of racial violence will be punished with the possibility of expulsion… and that if you do have the urge to sling a stone, could you please, please refrain from targeting the dragons.

Not only does SCU boast a student population comprised of most cultures, this university also prides itself on its wide selection of subjects. In fact, unlike our traditional rivals over at Moonsea University (mooooo!) this institution is famous for having available every single course of every single department of every single faculty of every single school. Impossible you say? Then what are you doing here? If you're so bloody sceptical why don't you go on over to MU, I'm sure they'll be glad to take on another ignorant idiot into their roster. I'm suuuure those morons over there have classes just for you, 'How to be a Sissy 101.'

….

Ahem… moving on, yes, Sword Coast University is the only academic institution that provides quality education of whatever career you choose. Our professors are of the highest calibre, all at least of 25th level or higher. No matter where or what, when you graduate from here, just saying you've earned a degree from SCU will get you that second interview and that's just by getting a bachelor's. If you choose to pursue your master's or even a doctorate… well, let's just say that you can expect a promotion a week after you're hired.

Let's begin with our most popular academic program and that would be our Faculty of Combat. Young men and women who train themselves under the art of fighting often choose to simply earn their Bachelor's of Combat before striking out into the mercantile world or quickly rising through the ranks of armed organizations. On the road to earning your education you can focus your degree on various disciplines to major in such as our Department of Berserking or the School of Kensai. Classes on how to use weapons are moderated by demonstration and decapitation. However it isn't all just hack and slash because we even offer courses such Warrior Etiquette and Honour Code within our various schools.

Not comfortable with swinging an axe but more adept with reducing people to ashes? Our magical disciplines pop out more mages than a formian queen using aphrodisiacs. The university's renowned Faculty of Arcane Arts is the premier program that any witch or wizard can find themselves learning in, exploring not only theory but application as well. Magical studies at SCU are among the best because there is no limit to what is achieved. Our world famous faculty brings forth knowledge from all corners and all spectrums leaving no possibility unattained, encouraging our students to test their abilities and to manipulate the world around them. Plus, training in all disciplines of magic are available from the School of Illusionism to the School of Wild Magic, and you are free to focus on whatever area interests you the most, whether it be conjuring a giant or raising a corpse.

If it's a life of prayer you seek then perhaps our Faculty of Worship strikes your fancy. It's our largest program because every religion or deity can be studied and you don't even need a patron deity to take courses in this field because every pantheon from human to orc, Kara-Turan to Maztican is available. Ao, Bhaal, Mystra, Waukeen even Gruumsh and Lolth are some of the subjects you can adhere yourself to. The university grounds hold places of worship for all gods and our prayer halls are among the most blessed in the lands. Don't fret if priesthood and prayer sound a tad mundane because you can always apply to get into the Department of Clerics or maybe even the School of Paladins for you noble types. Taking courses in these fields allows you to not only learn how to worship a deity but to also how to forcefully 'convert' others through attending joint classes with our Combat faculty.

You may feel like worshipping but perhaps a god may be too heavy for you… but nature has always been there for you. The Faculty of Forestry is another popular program here at SCU and you can always find your niche in the heart of the world with either of our award winning Department of Druidism or the School of Rangers. All our graduates are qualified green peacekeepers that can track a bear by its feces or know how to move an entire forest with just a whispered request. Maybe you find it better if you focus your mind and body with the world around you then apply into our Department of Monks that is fast becoming a well recognized degree

Now sure, it's a frowned upon profession but the Faculty of Mischief educates our students with the best thieving techniques that turn bumbling buffoons into poised pilferers. Pickpocketing and assassinations are only some of the basic skills you'll pick up from the courses made available but by the time you complete the program, you'll be a guaranteed Shadowmaster. Now, I know because we offer so much at SCU that you're probably thinking, 'oh, great, what in the Nine Hells am I going to do?' but we have an excellent jack of all trades education plan for all you undecided people. The Department of Bards offers a program that generally studies all areas allowing you a taste before making a specific career decision or instead you may even choose to continue educating yourself with a wide assortment of quality skills.

Just remember that classes are available to all who wish to take them and that there is no limit to what you can take (unless of course, you didn't declare your major). Whether you choose to earn your Bachelor's of Worship with a Basheba degree or continue on to get your Master of Forestry with an Associate's degree in Swashbuckling, SCU is grand enough to cater to everybody's whims.

Sword Coast University encompasses enough land to practically be able to declare itself its own independence. Besides the campus, the university property extends to the surrounding lands including its own farmlands, a wide plain, a few mountains and a good portion of both the Wood of Sharp Teeth and the Snakewood Forest, which I would like to add is where most of the Druidic courses take place. To the west includes an impressive (and extensive) stretch of beachfront property which I would like to add, is a prime spot for those summer parties.

The facilities at SCU comprise of seven main buildings, fifteen non-main buildings, twenty extended wings, multiple prayer halls, labs, training facilities, gyms and temples, three libraries, five track fields, three stadiums, two amphitheatres, ten cafeterias, innumerable gardens and ponds both natural and artificial, and a very large stable. Besides the academic buildings the university houses its own small community, with housing for those with families, shops of all kinds, marketplaces and taverns (for those of legal age) and enough dorm rooms to house the entire goblinoid population.

Some examples that make SCU a truly unique place are the obstacle courses for our thief courses, the gladiator pits for combat students, flying towers for magic studies, an underground mine for smithing work, a kraken farm for aquatic danger training, giant domes for worshipping courses, bridges that connect buildings over bottomless pits, and we even just installed revolutionary elevators for those too lazy to climb twenty flights of stairs to get to class. In fact, this institution has been added to, changed, rebuilt, demolished and ripped open so much over the years I'm surprised it hasn't sunk into the Underdark by now.

… Yes, well… continuing on, if you'll follow me, to the left you'll see the Planar Sphere where most of the arcane classes are held…

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**Cast of Characters (or the Guidelines to Visual Representation)**

Aerie – Emmy Rossum

Anomen Delryn – Heath Ledger

Aran Linvail –

Bhodi – Jana Pallaske

Cernd – Mark Dacascos

Edwin Odeisseron – Edward Norton

Ellisime –

Haer'Dalis –

Imoen – Alyson Hannigan

Jaheira – Catherine Zeta-Jones

Jan Jansen –

Joneleth – Christian Bale

Keldorn Firecam – Liam Neeson

Korgan Bloodaxe –

Mazzy Fentan – Cate Blanchett

Melissan –

Minsc – Andrew Bryniarski

Nalia De'Arnise –

Phaere – Laura Harris

Ribald Barterman –

Saemon Havarian – Ryan Reynolds

Sarevok Anchev –

Solaufein –

Valygar Corthala – Keith Hamilton Cobb

Viconia DeVir – Shannyn Sossamon

Yoshimo – Shawn Yue

Updated, changed… whenever.


	2. Start of a Long Year

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to whomever really owns it. Though I am too lazy to point out who those people are, they know who they are.

A/N: In case you wonder, I am going with school terms used in Canada.

**Chapter 1**

**Start of a Long Year**

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… _And believe me, you won't find better grounds anywhere else in the realms for your magical education. The sphere was kindly donated to the school during its founding year by the very generous Corthala family. Now I know you've probably heard certain folktales so I would like to clarify that all rumours concerning the Planar Sphere being sanctified by blood and that its creator still stalks its halls in murderous frenzy, are all undeniably… not provable._

_Er, just as a precaution, _should_ you encounter any questionable or dangerous looking necromantic individuals at night, could you please, please inform the nearest faculty member?_

_Ahem, the Planar Sphere, as I said before, is home to most of the classes of the Faculty of Arcane Arts and I assure you that though it doesn't look it, there's more than ample enough room. Running with the theme of its housed subject, the sphere is in reality its own magical pocket universe. The rules of time and space are altered and at present there are over two hundred and forty-three _known_ rooms, and ninety-seven of them have been deemed by health authorities to be usable. Plus it has provided the economical boons of being self-sustainable… all supplies within are magically replenished every night._

_Not only is it one of the many buildings that makes SCU so unique but within its walls lays an elaborate history of remarkable discoveries and momentous events. Invaluable breakthroughs have been made here, such as the first dedicated school to Wild Magic, the manifestation of the Bylaws of Construct Enchanting and the theories of sub-vocal casting, to name a few._

_The intricacies of the Planar Sphere are of continuing interest and study, even amongst some of our senior staff. There are always surprises and intriguing rooms that oft draw the attention of many a grad writing their thesis paper. In fact students are encouraged to participate at the annual year-end writing contest where you can submit your theories about any subject involving the sphere._

_Speaking of annual traditions, as an added treat I'd like to inform you, that yes, the Planar Sphere is _still_ operational. Students of magical studies are lucky enough to get to go on specially planned field trips held every two years. For one week, students get to travel within the sphere to various otherworldly planes for hands on educational experience._

… _On that note I would like to dissuade your fears if you've heard of about the time the sphere popped through several layers of the Abyss… the professor who was piloting at the time has been appropriately discharged and the school has given assurances that it will never happen again…_

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"Imoen! Imoen!"

The pink-haired young woman stopped along the cobbled path, turning to see who had been frantically calling her name. An impish grin grew as she took in the flurry of flowing yellow and orange robes dashing along the path to catch up with her. The pretty elf running was unmindful of the few students she shoved aside in her haste to reach her.

Imoen began prancing up and down in mockery of her over excited roommate, "Aerie! Aerie! Aerie!"

The young avariel paused before her, confusion etched on her delicate features at the wild movements that had suddenly overtaken the human girl, "Imoen, are you all right? Why are you jumping up and down like that? Do… do you have to pee?"

Imoen stopped, her mouth open in mild shock, "What!? No! I mean what about you? What's got ya so excited that you've gotta scream my name clear across campus?" scolding her with a slight slap to the shoulder.

Immediately Aerie's eyes began to tear up behind a few locks of ribbon-braided blonde hair. Despite both being second-year students, the avariel looked as young as a teenager and sometimes twice as naïve and emotional. In contrast, despite her petite form, Imoen looked like the typical sort of girl who 'corrupted' girls like Aerie, with her strange hair colouring and leather tunic and skirt. However those who met the human know her to be just as caring of her friends… as she is likely to bring them trouble.

Concerned that perhaps she upset her friend on one of those 'days,' Imoen took both Aerie's hands trying to placate the girl from crying, "Aww, I didn't mean to Aerie, I thought it was just a light slap. C'mon, go ahead and scream all you want."

The avariel sniffled, shaking her head at Imoen's presumption, "N-no, it's not that! I-I just heard!"

"Heard what?"

"It's… it's so horrible! It's about Pr-professor Rayic!"

The way the blonde elf seemed to shrink into herself alarmed Imoen further, a cold feeling washing over her, "Aerie… did something happen?"

She saw the fear that poured from the avariel's crystal blue eyes and she in turn felt the dread seep into her.

"Aerie, tell me what happened!"

Her voice trembled, as if barely able to believe itself, "I-I heard th-that, Professor Rayic..."

"Yes?" Imoen impatiently urged.

"I he-heard that… that he failed every s-single student in his classes last yeeeeeaaarrr!" the clearly distraught girl bawled in tears.

Imoen tried very hard not to laugh in front of the avariel… so she turned away from her friend, clasping her hands over her mouth unable to stop from shaking in mirth.

Aerie, unable to see the look on her friend's face, misinterpreted Imoen's quivering shoulders as distress, "_Sniff_. I know and now we've got him this year... we don't stand a chance. He's going to fail us and our GPAs won't be good enough and we're going to get kicked out of school and I have to go back to the circus and Uncle Quayle will be so disappointed and I'll have to start trimming Anna's beard every tenday…"

This time Imoen could not hold back her laughter.

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"This… this is the first class, right?" a clearly panicky voice whispered next to him.

Anomen could only briefly glance bewilderedly at the person who spoke, a glossy wide-eyed gnome whose jaw hung open.

Offering a weak smile he quickly returned his attention back to the lecture, totally sympathetic with the gnome's stupefied state of mind. Not only was the professor speaking at incredible rate… but from whatever he _could_ make out, still did not make sense.

"… empirical studies prove that the circumstance revolving around the formula for cube is not related to the theological undertones of Flamerule but that the astrologist Enrik Ticktass stated a pretence of pious beliefs involving the Pantheon of Disgruntled Demigods and Dockworkers which reduced the faith of the Church of Talos in Waterdeep forcing the Stormlord to switch his tactics of physical brutality to mathematical catering of radial entomology that eventually leads to our topic of discussion, 'Why Does Everything Taste Like Chicken?: Divine Destiny or Cosmic Joke?' However, before we get into that, I'd like for you to take note of an alternate theory that starts off not with the chaos but with an order of take-out…"

Anomen began to feel the same state of panic as the gnome, madly scribbling what he could make out and still falling drastically behind while quickly running out of parchment. He had always prided himself on his exceptional quillmanship, a fact that Moira often teased that he wrote better than most women of nobility, yet his alarm at trying to take down notes for the lecture and that the professor showed no signs of pausing reduced his usual flawless script into something resembling chicken scratches and polka dots.

He glanced enviously at some of the other students in the lecture hall who were not in the same state of panic as the other half. They were mostly lounging lazily in their seats, some writing brief notes while others looked to be sleeping peacefully. Anomen sighed heavily, wishing that he never took for granted the years when he could have relaxed as easily as they could.

_Verily, if there be one thing I shall learn this year… it's that maintaining a scholarship 'tis hard work._

He gritted his teeth at his current situation, shame and embarrassment glowing on his cheeks. There were things he regretted… and things he would die before he ever took them back.

"… stating that the gravitational laws apply when the magical counterweights activate in circumstances concerning the attention of at least one deity who commands some aspect of the physical plane regardless of the demands of the Material Plane itself involving the decrees of Mulhorandi godkings which alters the philosophical deliberation of methodology entertaining of the tribunal of mediocre and quasi powers of sprite etymology throwing off balance the borders between faithful intervention and unintelligent fortune…"

Anomen sighed again. He was not going to get much out of this it seemed and deciding that since this was only the first lecture he could always finish his notes off from somebody else. Looking around, he realized the chances of finding a completed set of notes were pretty slim.

Throwing down his quill, he instead tried helping to relax the gnome who began to hyperventilate in his seat next to him, gently patting his back while figuring that it would probably be a bad idea to finally tell distressed fellow that, yes, this was only the first lecture.

However, he could not help but be amused at the gnome's quiet semi-delirious whimpering, "Tiax… Tiax's world… getting dizzier…"

"Oh, and before I forget and completely lose my manners," the professor spoke up with a sinister grin, "Welcome to Theological Theory 303… and now let's have a small little quiz to see how many of you have been paying attention…"

Anomen groaned.

_It is going to be a long year._

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"Ahhh, an excellent crop this year, neh?"

Valygar raised an eyebrow, his tone wry, "I had no idea you're so interested in agriculture, Yoshimo. Tell me, did you find the breakfast this morning particularly fresh?"

The Kara-Turan grinned cheekily, "Heh heh, of course your sense of humour is as ripe as ever, my friend. I am, of course, speaking in regards to the many beautiful creatures we see walking around us."

He strengthened his statement by flashing a charming smile at a pair of passing elves who giggled coyly, smiling back as they continued on their way.

Yoshimo beamed broadly, "Yes… a very excellent crop."

Valygar rolled his eyes at his friend's antics, the two walking down the hallway towards a tutorial class they shared together. Ever since their first year at Sword Coast University the unlikely pair became good friends and yet even now he still could not figure out why. Not only are their personalities as different as night and day, they were not even in the same disciplines, he studying for his Stalker's Major while Yoshimo had been accepted into the Bounty Hunter department.

"I don't think your parents had this in mind when they sent you here as part of the students exchange program."

Yoshimo put on a face of mock offence, "My friend, I'll have you know that my study of Faerûnian females is exactly in accordance with my parents wishes that I experience life in another culture."

"Of course, why didn't I see it that way before."

"Because unlike you, I actually have the decency to grace women with my presence."

"… Yeah, you're a dog."

Yoshimo grinned cheekily, "Yes, but a very cute, adorable dog that ladies find irresistible."

Valygar ignored the self-praise of his friend, "I don't know how many times we have to go through this conversation. Women are at the very bottom list of my priorities right now."

"So are they on mine, my friend. It just so happens that my list is very short so I don't have a lot to go through."

The ranger student replied in his monotone grave voice, "Excuse me while I bury my jealousy deep within my soul."

"Oh you mustn't, not on my account. Do not look so down on yourself, I'm sure there are many things you are that I am not," Yoshimo patting him companionably on his shoulder.

This time Valygar managed a slight curve of his lips, shaking his head.

"Room CC1201, here we are. My friend, are you ready to impress our classmates with our otherworldly skill in basic katana combat?" Yoshimo joked before stepping into the classroom.

A few of their fellow female students who were already there regarded the entering pair with very interested smiles.

Valygar walked by ignoring their gazes, muttering to the Kara-Turan who was grinning like he found an unguarded chest full of gold, "I know you are."

Yoshimo just smirked, winking at some women while speaking aloud, "Do not worry about your katana so much, my friend. I'm sure there are some very _willing_ and _helpful_ people here who could help you _polish_ it."

Valygar groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose amidst the loud giggling and some very attracted staring.

_It's going to be a long year._

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"Aerie don't worry, that's just a rumour!" Imoen repeated for the umpteenth time.

"But what if it's true?" the impressionable avariel persisted, "I heard that Professor Rayic is incredibly tough and unfair and bigoted and… and just a big meanie!"

Imoen barked a short laugh, "So just because he's a… a big meanie he's gonna fail everybody an' anybody who takes a class of his?"

"Uh huh."

"… Sweetie, y'know that he can't do that unless people actually _fail_ his exams."

"He-he probably makes it so that no one gets anything right."

Imoen shook her head in amusement, "Well, we'll find out later for ourselves, 'kay? 'Cuz right now, we don't got no meanie Rayic but good ol' prof Jermien."

"He's not that much better," Aerie mumbled.

After assuring the avariel that she was not laughing about the concept of her going back to the circus, the two made their way together to where they had a class in the Planar Sphere. They passed through the grand doorway to the sphere, a two-story high circular entryway bordered with stylized carvings. Even though they have classes within on a daily basis, they still felt a semblance of awe at its beautiful and intricate details. The entrance was magical in its own right for it never exactly looked the same to any two people as they each see slight and nearly imperceptible differences in the carvings.

When they entered the sphere they found themselves travelling through a massive high-arched hallway that curved and twisted and was patterned with long white columns and brightly lit by the gold sheen of the walls. The mirrored ceiling was so immaculately clear that students who stared upwards long enough often wondered if perhaps they were the reflection and not the other way around. It was decorated with many fanciful antiques and contraptions and portraits of famous alumni that could be conversed with. A few domesticated will o' wisps floated gently above illuminating parts of the floor with a spotlight of green, blue or red.

The two were lucky that the class they were heading to was nearer the entrance. The hallway connects into smaller, less grand passageways leading to other classrooms and for some it would take nearly a half-hour's walk to get to. Aerie once likened it to the veins of a leaf.

The auditorium where their lecture was being held was divided in half by the walkway separating the lower seats closer to the lecturer and the further upper collection for those who hoped to get some sleep without getting caught. Already the room was quickly filling up and there were students already seated or milling about talking to old classmates.

As they entered Imoen felt a slight chill spread through her body.

Aerie saw the discomfort on her friend's face and asked worriedly, "Im, are you all right? You look… kind of scared."

The pink-haired human shook her head, "It's… it's nothin', don't worry about it," though a small frown was still on her lips, "It's probably jus' the first day willies, y'know how it is, it'll pass into second week despair, no problem."

The avariel did not look convinced though she knew from the look on her friend's face that further prying would be useless.

"If-if you say so."

"Aww, you're so cute when you're all concerned! Careful, or else some guy might jus' snatch ya up before class starts!"

"Imoen!" the blonde elf scolded, blushing furiously.

However, when Aerie looked at her friend she saw her glaring ahead, trembling slightly. Imoen's skin had paled. When she turned to see what she was looking at she figured out the reason for her friend's sudden discomfort.

From a distance it would be hard to tell that the person approaching them was an elf. Even up close it was difficult to tell also. His delicately handsome features beneath wavy black hair and long pointy ears were the only indication that he was indeed an elf. Unlike the rest of his kind, this one was taller than most humans, practically towering over the two girls. His muscular form was dressed in fine dark robes from which underneath peeked a heavily studded leather armour.

Yet it was not his intimidating size that bothered the two but the coldness of his blue eyes that were not regarding… but examining Imoen.

"Hello, god-child."

"I told ya ta stop callin' me that, Jon!" Imoen spat angrily though slightly unnerved by the lack of emotion in his voice.

Joneleth continued as if she did not say anything, "Did you have a pleasant summer holiday?"

"It was jus' dandy 'till now."

"A pity. I had hoped that the holidays would temper you yet I see that you're still as… uncooperative as ever."

"Yeah, well excuse me for being creeped out by you."

Joneleth did not appear to be offended, "Interesting… I would comment on such irrational behaviour yet I see that lecture is about to start. I bid you farewell for now, god-child… we shall speak again," and then he walked away, grace in each step as he walked down to the lower left of the auditorium.

"C'mon, Aerie, I wanna sit far away from that guy," Imoen growled, dragging Aerie to the upper right corner seats.

The avariel let herself be directed, concerned and slightly confused at what just happened, "Um, wh-why does he keep calling you that?"

Plunking herself down on seat, Imoen huffed, "How should I know?" glaring hard at a certain person seated near the front, as if hoping she could set him ablaze.

Aerie was about to say something when a green robed man walked briskly to the front, his voice echoing throughout the room, "All right, all right, settle down the lot o' you! This is Magicking Projectiles 214 and if you're not supposed to be here, beat it!"

A few people got up from their seats and quickly left the room.

Professor Jermien immediately began the class and Aerie was caught up in taking notes. However she began to notice that Imoen could not seem to concentrate on the lecture, often fidgeting and tapping her quill, staring blankly at the professor. The avariel knew the reason for her friend's mood and hated feeling so helpless.

Throughout the entire class Imoen could feel in the back of her mind a pair of ice-cold eyes boring into her.

_It's gonna be a long year._


	3. Lost in the Beginning

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to whomever really owns it. Though I am too lazy to point out who those people are, they know who they are.

**Chapter 2**

**Lost in the Beginning**

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_If you would all gather around me now… yes, that's it, you all just stand there. Now turn around and tell me what you see. Look beyond the sun-kissed rooftops and out into the land surrounding us…_

_That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the grand landscape you see before us is indeed all Sword Coast University. Literally as far as the eye can see… this is, if you're looking in the right direction, completely obstructed by the immensity of the Wood of Sharp Teeth. Now, don't let the name fool you, there is absolutely nothing sinister lurking within that forest and you are completely safe to explore it at will… as long as you're accompanied by certified instructors and remain within the designated boundaries._

_SCU is famed for not only its modern and immaculate architecture but also for never forgetting the spiritual connection we all have with nature. Besides the well-kept gardens and flourishing trees generously sprinkled around campus, the natural world outside its halls is just as important to student life, if not venerated. The school is strict in its policy of keeping the surrounding environment as natural as the day it was settled around. _

_In fact to this day, other than university grounds, not a square inch of wild land has been cleared away, making Sword Coast University a truly unique model for the working relationship between civilization and the natural world. The local forests boast innumerable species of plant and animal life that work together to create a delicate ecosystem that we have only just begun to understand._

_In case you're wondering where we get the necessary supplies and materials needed to support the school… well, let's just say a majority of your student fees are filling the pockets of many ship and caravan captains… which in turn will fill the coffers of many pubs and drinking halls._

_Classes that deal with nature are usually held within the Wood of Sharp Teeth and Snakewood Forest as well as in the grasslands and local mountains, so as to better accustom our students with what they're learning. Remember, here at SCU, we believe in hands-on experience for the student to truly grasp the fundamental skills needed in life. Druidic and ranger courses are regularly conducted in those woods, from beginner's tracking to ritualistic shamanism. _

_But it isn't just the Forestry students who get to enjoy the great outdoors. Other courses often make use of the opportunity to hold their classes there. In carefully prepared areas, combat classes will conduct mock battles as potions students will gather their own ingredients. The quiet stillness is a favoured reason why many students hold prayer sessions out here and the thick foliage makes it an ideal place for practicing how to stay hidden._

_Because of our insistence of disturbing the natural order as little as possible, we are the only university that can allow our students to truly observe things as they normally happen. Everything from migrating herds and flocks to the effects of seasonal changes have been integrated into the curriculum…_

_This is why I must stress that all bonfire parties are no longer allowed to be held within five leagues of the woods… the local druids have still not forgotten the rather heated incident with a small, although fatal, forest fire over three hundred years ago. As a tip, I wouldn't recommend bringing out a lit torch at night, instead just bring along any friend who has infravision. Believe me, you'll avoid a lot of lecturing, paperwork, hassle… and a vicious beating with sticks… lots and lots of sticks…_

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"Imoen, slow down! You're charging forward like a rampaging, snorting orc!"

"Snglort!"

"No offence!" Aerie yelped a quick apology to a passing orc who had a rather offended look on his face.

She rushed away before a harsh rebuke could be issued, running down the same path she had earlier that day, trying to catch up to the same girl. It was not that she normally ever had trouble keeping up with people… it was just one of those days where things seem to happen in fast forward.

The second Professor Jermien concluded the day's lecture, Imoen bolted out of the room faster than a thief on gold. Aerie had stayed behind to collect both the course outline and the week's homework assignment that were being issued after she had already left. Of course there was the mad rush to get the papers plus the timid avariel had to stutter a hasty excuse why she needed two of each to the professor who suspiciously interrogated that if she was collecting one for her friend, why was that friend not present, what, was his lecture not good enough to attend that they had to send a lackey to take notes for them?

The red-faced avariel finally caught up to her equally crimson flushed friend, albeit the human's coloured tinge stemmed more from barely contained emotional rage rather than physical exertion of movement.

Aerie concluded that Imoen was very angry.

"That stupid… that sonuva… bloody stupid sonuva… ooohhhh!" she sputtered, unable to find the right coherency to vent her anger, so instead finding it more satisfying to stomp her foot as hard as she can.

Aerie winced, feeling quite sorry for the poor ground, "I… I guess you're upset that he's in the same class as us, huh?"

"Upset? Upset!? I'm beyond upset, I'm steamin,' stinkin' pissed **off**! What's his Abyss damned problem, why can't he just leave me alone? Every time, every single stupid time, he's gotta treat me like I'm some kinda… some kinda science project!"

"Maybe he, I don't know, maybe that's just the way he acts around people?"

They continued walking down the gravel path through carefully tended grass areas where spread about the green blanket here and there were people enjoying the warm noon sun of late summer. There were groups catching up over the holidays, a few reading books and scrolls, while others were passing the time lying on their backs.

Aerie looked fondly around her. Pointless gossip, joyous laughter and contemplative conversations abounded in the atmosphere that played like sweet music to her ears. She knew that it was a laidback time that students were taking advantage of before the workload of the semester could truly weigh down on them. On the other hand there were also others who were still oblivious that it was the end of holidays and usually only around the time of midterms and the handing in of the first homework assignments will panic mode finally set in.

The light feeling sparked the avariel's sense of romance, "Or maybe he only acts like that around _you_. What if he really, really, really likes you but he just gets so nervous that he becomes so stiff that he's unable to express how he truly feels?"

"Hah!" Imoen scoffed at her friend's naïve gushing, "Jon doesn't know how to feel, he's as emotionally crippled as a doorknob used to stopper a bull's arse!"

"Imoen!" Aerie gasped, her sensitive ears still unused to the provocative language often heard spewing forth from her friend's mouth.

"What? It's true, ask anybody else. He thinks he's all high and mighty just cuz he's always top o' the class an' he just so happens to be takin a buncha honour courses. _And _I heard he's even got it good wi' some royal elven family or something. C'mon Aerie, y'know all them noble types are snootier than a chimney. Ugh!" Imoen growled throwing up her hands, "Y'know what, forget about it, I don't wanna talk about that pickle-pricked stiff anymore. We have to meet Nalia for lunch anyways an' I only got an hour before my next class."

Aerie was about to say something when she saw something past her friend that made her forget her tongue.

"Hello, my dove," an accented voice said.

"Oh why did the gods have to invent men?" Imoen groaned, her ire rising with the approach of the new person.

"H-hello, Haer'Dalis," Aerie greeted back.

The human girl cast a quick sad glance back at her friend whose voice was both a sorrowful mix of nervousness and loss. She fixed a hard glare at the young man. Despite the vibrant blue hair, smooth features and piercing dark eyes, Imoen was immune to his exotic looks, contempt dripping in her less than friendly greeting.

"What do you want numbnuts?"

Haer'Dalis narrowed his eyes at the human but his gaze softened when he focused back on the avariel. Imoen would not let her imagination get the best of her but the tiefling almost looked… regretful.

"You've been well over the summer?" he asked.

"It… it was fine… it was good seeing everybody at the circus again."

"That's good… it gladdens my heart to hear that."

"…"

"…"

Imoen rolled her eyes at the awkwardness.

"Er… h-how was your summer?"

"Well… it went well… Raelis visited-"

"Okay, that's enough, you're fine, she's fine, we're all fine!" Imoen interrupted, seeing the frailty in Aerie's eyes, "We can chitchat later but for now we've gotta meet a friend, so if you'd get out of the way…"

She grabbed the avariel's hand, shoving past Haer'Dalis despite his protesting, "Please wait, Aerie I must speak with you!"

"Sorry, busy!"

"I was speaking to her!" he shouted, losing his patience.

"As far as I'm concerned, ya lost all your speaking privileges so why don't ya back off!" she screamed back.

"Imoen, don't!" Aerie pleaded, turning to Haer'Dalis with sad eyes, "I'm-I'm sorry… but… we really have to go."

"I…I," the tiefling tried desperately but eventually gave in, "As you wish… I shall… seek you out another time then."

"O-okay," the blonde elf managed before Imoen forcefully yanked her away, looking back and seeing Haer'Dalis had already turned away.

They had gotten further down the path when Aerie finally managed to yank her hand free, "You shouldn't treat him like that you know."

"What? Are ya kidding me?" Imoen cried incredulously about to vent her rage… but the downcast look of the avariel halted her tirade.

"He's… he's not a bad person."

"Aww, Aerie," she said piteously putting her arm around the slender elf's shoulders, "Ya can't be that naïve to forget that _he's_ the one that cheated on you."

"He didn't mean to!" the avariel defended, "a-and… he admitted it… he said he couldn't… couldn't lie to me…"

Imoen sighed heavily. It was the same argument and excuse and for the life of her, she really did not want to go through any of it today.

"Whatever, let's just find Nalia."

"Yeah…"

They walked on in silence for a few minutes… but Imoen's impatience got the best of her,

"Ya know, the offer still stands, I could always get my brother to have a talk wi' him."

Aerie gasped in shock as if Imoen had just suggested first-degree manslaughter… which is essentially what she did.

"No, you can't! He'll kill him and then the police would question us and we'd say, 'no, we don't know anything,' but they'd still know we were lying and then they'd charge us with 'accessory to murder' and then I'd get sent to prison clipping toenails for about ten to fifteen for a really big woman who makes me her baby bi-…!"

Imoen guffawed all throughout her friend's frantic fantasies of prison time.

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Once, it was during those precious moments between heading to class and arriving when she felt the most at peace. Courses were held within the woods far enough for campus noise to fade like memory, only the murmuring of other students faint enough to meld with the voice of the land. As the year would wear on, the experience changed… but the peace would always remain.

…When the trees turned into a hue of yellow and red that weaved with the dark gold of her hair, it was like walking through a warm fire, crackling leaves underfoot and the crisp aroma of 'goodbye' but with a promise of 'hello, again…'

… The crunch of white powder as she left footprints that would be forever lost as she gazed upon the dark skin of bark delicately balancing a burden of countless snow flakes, each crystal tragically without a twin…

… The opening blossom of freshness and rain would assault her senses as the vibrant birth of green, blue, yellow, red and everything in between the rainbow would blur her vision in a cornucopia of exploding life…

… Everlasting heat filling the atmosphere with a lazy charge of activity amongst the whispered breaths of cooling breeze spreading the scent of the fully bloomed forest declaring teeming excitement for the ever bright days…

… Once…

Now the leaves were heavier, the colours duller, the land quieter and the path… lonelier.

The lecture was held in a wide open clearing with a lone standing willow surrounded by rows of fallen logs covered with cushions of moss. Against the backdrop of dense forest and the carpet of plush grass it seemed more like a meeting area of fairies than for students. The professor was standing by the willow, her silver hair tied with a bundle of oak leaves and already half the class was there on the logs while others chose to sit on the ground instead.

Normally she would be up front where she could be seen dedicating half the class's lecture time for the professor to answer her questions… but instead she made her way to one of logs near the back, silently sitting down.

For the entirety of the lecture she diligently took notes and appeared to be listening to the professor speak of the intricacies of spider webs and cloudy skies. She was content to just be there, the only other sign of life in her was accepting paper assignments and outlines as they were handed out.

When it was over she stood up and calmly walked away, only offering faint smiles to those who took the time to acknowledge her.

No one paid any heed her quiet behaviour but to one person's mind, she was like a ghost.

"Jaheira! Hey, Jaheira!"

But she appeared not to have heard someone calling her name, walking further and further away.

"Eh? Cernd, you know her?"

Eyes like polished mahogany followed as the lone half-elf distanced herself from the rest of the class, concern tinged in his tone, "Enough to know what's wrong."

"What do you mean?"

Cernd turned to his friend as they too began walking back to campus, "… It's not my place to say… but… she is no longer the oak atop the grass… but like the plucked rose stolen into a vase..."

"… Mate, you've really gotta stop talking like that."

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"This is an outrage! I demand you recheck the files again! And then recheck them all over again! (Hmph, perhaps even such simple repetitiveness is beyond the abilities of these drones of buffoonery.)"

"Sir," the receptionist said monotonously, "It says so right here… there's nothing else that can be done."

If Edwin was hoping that his patented 'Glare of a Superior Being that Destroys All Unworthy Simians (That's Everybody Else) with Unspoken Ridicule' would have any effect, he was sadly disappointed.

The pink-cotton haired receptionist remained unfazed by his attempts at intimidation, shouting, threatening, invading her personal space and general lack of cooperation. Typical of the usual encounters endured with the thousands of students who came before seeking assistance.

The admissions office was at a peak of activity though there is always general uproar and chaos during the first few weeks of semester. Papers were piling up and not moving anywhere, line ups were growing longer meaning that students were getting even more late for classes, more and more staff were going out to lunch and the screams of annoyance and pleas for help increased in volume.

Classes that were enrolled were not listed while classes that were not listed were enrolled. There were rooms that have been mistakenly switched and so there was priority in getting a tutorial of explosive potion makers out of Fire Salamander Taming 227. A potential riot of enraged females was on the brink of burning down the dorms when a fraternity of halflings were accidentally bunked with a sorority of moon elves. Someone had lost an entire class of first year foreign students somewhere in the Snakewood Forest and a rescue party was being organized… and the meeting to decide who will actually do the searching will be held tomorrow.

On Edwin's right, a halfling lass was on the verge of jumping up to snap someone's neck, the frustration of telling the administration that, no she was not in Clerical studies so why in the Nine Hells should her credits be going into that instead of being counted as her Thievery credentials? Further down an ogre mage was making a scene bawling, weeping, snivelling and crying tears that splattered the unmoving administrator, begging them to let him into one course, just one little course that he needed for his graduation requirements and that he is willing to stand in the back all year long if necessary, just please, please, please, let him register for that course.

People who had waited in line for over an hour were sent back because they had no idea they had to fill in specific forms. Everything from credit transfers to transcript requests were mixed with one another on a table far too small to accommodate the mass of paperwork. The crowd of limbs and cussing mouths trying to grab any form that may be of use seemed a scene more fitted for the discount days at the local supermarket than in an educational institution.

Edwin thought that the administration made it purposely so that they could amuse themselves with the madness of the mainstream simpletons who dared call themselves 'undergraduates.'

"(Obviously dignity is as much a foreign concept as individuality.) I refuse to be treated with such casual disregard, I demand to see your superior!"

"He's out to lunch, sir."

"This is preposterous! How can the personnel in charge of maintaining order for these degenerate masses of cretins be out consuming victuals during this crisis at hand? (The fat embezzlers of the mind are probably gorging themselves on the pre-processed pig slop they call food around here.)"

"They're just hungry, sir, it is lunch time. Even if you could see my superiors, they'd still say the same thing, sir."

"But-but this cannot be! There must be some mistake! (Of course, it's a mistake, I'd expect nothing less from these bureaucratic clones.)"

If the receptionist heard the young man's mutterings, she made no indication of having doing so. Her passive posture retained its glazed look and she continued to snap gum with amazing loudness and clarity. Edwin sneered down at her, his ire growing steadily as he took in her horrendous pink hair, make-up that was put on so thick it would take an archaeological dig to uncover her skin… and that robe is so last century.

"Oh, wait a minute, sir," the monotonous voice droned on, "it seems there is a note attached to your file."

"Ah hah!" Edwin crowed triumphantly, "Once again this training facility for the commercially enslaved has failed to prevent me from toppling its oversized dictators…"

"It's from your father, sir."

"My father?"

"Your father…"

"…"

"…"

Blink.

Blink.

"…"

"…"

"… Well?"

"Well what, sir?"

"(When the revolution comes, your lacklustre social standing shall be the first of many to go.) What… does the note… say?" Edwin ground out.

"It says, 'Tell my son that if he thinks I'm going to pay good money just so that he could sit on his arse protesting one corporate takeover after another, he can forget about it. No child of mine is going to waste the family's hard earned wealth if they cannot even appreciate where it came from.'"

"…"

"…"

"… WHAT!?"

"… It says, 'Tell my son that-'"

"No, I heard you the first time, (overbearing administrator of political tyranny). I just… I mean he-he can't do this!"

"He did, sir."

"But-but… what happened?" Edwin's voice as lost as paperwork through the shredder.

"Your father deposited half your student fees before the start of semester but if you don't pay the other half before the end of the year, you'll be dropped from your classes and lose all credits countable this semester."

Doom fell upon Edwin Odesseiron as he dreaded his next question, "Wh-where am I supposed to come up with that kind of money?"

"It's called a job, sir."

"…"

"…"

"… N-no… No… NNNOOOOOOOOO!!! (I'm screwed.)"

"Will that be all, sir? You're holding up the line, sir."

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"Before we begin I want you all to listen very carefully, I'd like to get one thing straight. I am **not** your friend, so in the hours before and after class unless during a scheduled appointment, don't you dare greet me in the halls, don't talk to me, don't even smile at me. I'm **not** your guidance councillor, if you're too stupid or ignorant to figure things out on your own, they have people to help you with that two floors up. I am **not** your role model, I don't need gullible children who cannot even decide their own outlook on life, create their own personalities or come up with their own philosophies. I'm damn well **not** your mother, I will not coddle, nurse, be lenient, pity, be merciful, understand or even care about you. In fact, you can't even really call me your teacher because what _that_ will imply is that I must be concerned enough to take you under my wing and explain the facts of life to you. No, I'm not. What I am, ladies and gentlemen, is your educator… meaning I am simply a professor which in turn means that you do not screw up around me."

"…"

Like the rest of the class, Anomen could only stare wide-eyed numb at the professor who practically _stalked_ the floor. A strange panic welled within him, the root of the fear probably being residue from the class he just had before. It seemed as if luck was set against him because none of his courses so far appear to be simple… or at least slack worthy.

_Egads, Tymora just handed me over to Beshaba on a silver platter._

"If you didn't get it the first time, let me make it crystal. My only purpose here is to educate you, to train your minds so that they will be used for things other than planning how to satisfy your libidos. I will get you to _think_. I will get you to _understand_. I will get you to _challenge_," the speaker paused taking in the audience before him, "From the faces assembled before me, I see that was easier said than done. Know this! There will no longer be any adolescent bliss like when you were ignorant teenagers, you've all chosen to leave that behind the second you decided to come to this school and into _my_ class. I expect nothing from you but to be competent young adults with the ability to think, organize and act independently for yourselves. If putting your pants on every morning is the only true extent of your mental capabilities then I suggest you drop out… _now_."

Chuckles broke out sporadically.

"I'm sorry… did you think I was making a joke? Did I crack a grin of some sorts, perhaps some humorous sparkle in my eye that indicated I was attempting to befriend you with light camaraderie?"

Immediately the mirth died faster than their hope.

"If you think your future is a joke then by all means, go ahead and laugh… laugh yourselves to death because that's exactly what's going to happen to any of you who choose not to take this class seriously. You _will_ fail because you cannot comprehend the work and your spirits _will_ die because you've decided to believe that fool who said 'laughter is the best medicine.' Jokes will do none of you any good in here, this is Knowledge and Morality 332, ladies and gentlemen. Only by my approval shall you pass… and the only way to pass this class… is if you can prove to me that you know how to _use_ your mind."

"Excuse me, but what do you mean by that?"

Though the lecture room was quiet before, it seemed a dead silence had descended. Like the lion finding its prey, the professor slowly settled his gaze in one person's direction.

At first he was confused as to why the professor was staring at him… then Anomen's heart leapt into his throat. In his shock he realized that it was _himself_ who asked that question.

_Suicidal… yes, I must be suicidal…_

A grin that was not friendly grew, "What I mean… is that you must prove to me that you're worthy enough to call yourselves… students."

To his dismay, Anomen's mouth just would not play dead, "I'm sorry, I… I would think it obvious that… that we already are… students. We are, after all, attending classes."

"HAH!" the amused cry making half the class whimper in fear, "As far as I'm concerned your quills are more like students than any of you. Just because you're here, sitting down and listening to me talk does not mean that you have any right to call yourself students. If you don't apply anything with what is being said to what you know, then all you're doing is using up _my_ breathing air. If that's the case then the desks have more of a right to call themselves students, they don't waste oxygen, they're here every day, and are never tardy! No, just attending does not make you students… learning does. Now do you have anymore pearls of obviousness or must we continue this witty conversation and waste even more of your peer's time?"

Anomen bit his tongue. Hard.

"Are there any more questions from the rest of you?"

Only a few were brave enough to shake their heads.

He let his gaze linger on before moving back to the center of the floor, "Remember… I will not suffer laziness or idiocy, I'm not your friend. You will call me Professor Balthazar and nothing else… and believe me, I will test you all to your limits... and then you will have to break through them."

That day, a piece of everyone in that room died a little.


	4. Welcoming

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything, except OC's or anything else unrecognizable, belongs to whoever really owns it. Though I am too lazy to point out who those people are, they know who they are.

**Chapter 3**

**Welcoming**

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_Now follow me as we stride towards one of the first few buildings that mark the boundaries of the campus from the rest of the school property. This large four-sided building is Pimlico's Square where various classes of the Faculty of Forestry and Faculty of Worship are held. You'll notice as we pass underneath the archway that this four story complex shaped into a perfect square and the garden we see before us is known as Pimlico's Green. Housed within its center is the perfect spot for contemplation and prayer amongst the Lilac Ferns and Silk Willows._

_The gentle sloping hill covered in clovers and the rows of maple trees that bed beside the artificial pond teeming with rainbow fish are a tranquil harmony perfectly set within the openness of the square. The carvings and statues that decorate the building proper were crafted by architects who've been paid after the generous donation of the Pimlico family… well okay, actually, technically the generously liberated donation of the Pimlico family. _

_The story goes that after completing a quest for the Pimlico's, the family refused full payment owed to the adventurer's who returned to them bloody, battered and missing two party members. The family figured that since two were dead, there really wouldn't be any point in paying them their share. Dead people cannot spend anything, right? Of course these were the wrong adventurers to try to con, so quite calmly the leader beheaded everyone on the estate, including the pet fairy dragon, took their share plus a little extra for compensation, and burned down the home. Then they took the liberty of celebrating with the wine collection._

_Unfortunately, unbeknownst to the adventurer's, the Pimlico's had a guardian lich who at that time was just returning from a union meeting. Not much is known what the meeting was about, something involving crosswalks and cornbread, but whatever it was the lich came back in a very bad mood. So when he saw the burned remains of the family he was contracted to protect and the adventurer's who did the deed lying around passed-out drunk… well, he vented his anger in an extreme way. Needless to say, afterwards there really wasn't much left to identify the adventurer's. So with the family dead and the adventurer's dead, the lich did the only sensible thing. He gathered up the treasure and left._

_Now, the story goes on that if the lich hadn't been in such a bad mood, he would have taken the time to sort through the treasure and he would have noticed one particular ruby that he should have left behind. It was the Cursed Bauble of Bubbles. That's right, THE Cursed Bauble of Bubbles. Within one day, the lich had developed gas for life, a fate some would consider worse than death. But the lich was already dead anyways so quite frankly its displeasure was made known to the local village it had decimated and turned into his very own private army of undead… who also acquired the curse of constant flatulence. _

_Well, before this plague of undead gas poppers could spread across the realms, fate would intervene in the form of a royal jester, a young noble woman with a lisp, twin dwarf-sized brother and sister halflings, three bottles of ale and a badger…_

…

_You know, now that I think about it, I can't really recall how any of those things managed to stop the lich, the story goes on for quite some time… I'm not even sure if Pimlico's Square is named after the same Pimlico's of the tale…_

_Anyways, the point I'm trying to make is that for those of you interested in either Forestry or Worship, this beautiful spot is one area you'll be very well acquainted with…_

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"Is it possible… even perhaps a minuscule of a chance… that you'll attend at least one class without pursuing a girl?"

"Then what," Yoshimo replied, "would be the point of going to class?"

The two were leaving the classroom after a rather trying time on Valygar's behalf, the odd number of students leaving him with a merciless instructor for a sparring partner. As if playing along with what the fates have allotted each of them, Yoshimo was partnered with a rather ditzy blonde lightfoot halfling who enjoyed the close proximity of the Kara-Turan's proffered assistance.

Whereas Valygar tried to concentrate on his katana swing, Yoshimo was focussing on swinging something else. All in all, the tutorial had ended with the stalker nicking his finger on the blade and the bounty hunter on his way to nicking more knickers.

"How about learning something? You should try it sometime, I hear it does wonders for the mind."

"Ah, but I have been learning."

Valygar glanced at the Kara-Turan, "I don't want to ask. I couldn't ask. I shouldn't ask… hn, alright, I'm going to ask, what have you been learning?"

"My friend, the lessons I have learned are always beneficial to my experience. First, I learn their names. Then I learn their basic fundamentals such as what they like and dislike, then I learn the little details about each of them, for example one may bite her nails when nervous or she tends to lightly gargle her wine-"

"Gargle her wine?"

"-That one was a most interesting date, I'll tell you about it some other time... Ahem, as I was saying, then I learn what little pleasures I can offer them in order to advance to the next stage of knowledge."

Sigh. "And what would that be?"

"I learn the colour of her panties."

"…"

"If it interests you I can tell you that on special occasions, Harrah likes to wear satin black th-"

"Don't finish that sentence."

"…"

"… Harrah? Our teaching assistant in katana combat, Harrah?"

"A most passionate woman despite the indifference she puts on in front of the class."

"I was wondering how you passed last year. You barely attended class!"

Yoshimo put on an affronted face, "I assure you, the fact that I passed was entirely based on my skill with the blade, and not the favour of the woman I happened to be seeing-"

"Boinking."

"Ahem, _loving unconditionally_, at the time."

"You are a true romantic…"

"All women are fragile petals that-"

"When did you dump her?"

"-Just before the year ended for summer vacation."

Valygar groaned as realization struck, "Is that why she was so intent on separating my head from the rest of my body in class today? Because I unfortunately happened to be your friend?"

Silence.

Out of the corner of his eye the ranger student noticed the slight faltering of the grin on his friend's face. He did not like the pregnant pause and whirled around to face the Kara-Turan.

"That's the only reason, right, Yoshimo? Once she finally gets her hands on you, none of that anger will be directed towards me any longer, right? Right?" Valygar growled near the end.

A grim look settled on the Kara-Turan's normally jovial attitude and the ranger student knew something was indeed very wrong. "I'm sorry, my friend…"

Valygar held his breath in, preparing himself to be very, very, _very_ cross with Yoshimo.

"… But Harrah was most persistent in keeping our relationship and she only relented in her pursuit after I told her I had fallen for somebody else… you."

The ranger student's justifiable anger was momentarily blindsided by horrified shock, "WHAT!? YOUR'RE IN LOVE WITH ME!?"

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The distraught cry brought Edwin's attention to focus on the two young men arguing along the path he was walking along, eyeing the dark-skinned one with passing interest.

_Well, who wouldn't be in love with him? Proportionate facial features offering a fine chiselled profile, body mass that is neither barbarously thick nor pathetically thin, immaculate clothing obviously denoting a well bred background, and oh, by a dragon's scrotum, that skin is so seductively exotic and his muscles are deliciously toned as a gods-… wait… what?_

Fairly alarmed by his train of thought Edwin hastily shoved his way through the crowd.

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A few passing students paused to look at the two.

Yoshimo scoffed, "Of course not, Valygar, I assure you that while you are indeed a handsome fellow, my desires still run towards the female race. I just told her we were sleeping together."

That was not the answer he wanted to hear, "Now we're sleeping together!?"

"That's not normally something you just realize, sweetie!" someone called out.

The Kara-Turan chuckled a little nervously, "Do keep your voice down, my friend. I don't wish the rumour to spread anymore than necessary."

Valygar finally noticed the crowd that had gathered around them listening in on their non-existent sexual relationship. Much to his ire, he saw that a few stares were more than just curiosity.

"Oi! All of you clear out, this is none of your business!" then he snarled particularly towards a male elf who was looking at him with far too much interest, "You! Go away!"

Ignoring the elf who huffed away muttering "Your loss!" Valygar spun back towards Yoshimo who was too busy appreciating the immaculate cut of his leather tunic. The ranger student closed his eyes to control his anger. Already he could feel the repercussions of his friend's thoughtless excuse that would find him and fuel many great headaches.

"What would possess you to do such a thing? You _always_ do this! I'm not like that!"

"Oh, fear not, _I_ know you aren't. Though as for others…"

Valygar looked up sharply, "As for others what?"

Yoshimo rushed his sentences, "After all, you must admit that you make it very easy for this, how you say, _falsehood_, to be believable, you're always impeccably dressed, you take far longer showers in the gym than necessary, you tend to converse more freely with other guys, I mean you're almost never seen with a girl outside of classes, and you only socialize with them when I force you to…"

Somewhere along the line, Valygar knew this conversation to be utterly ridiculous but some primitive instinct urged him to defend himself as dignifiedly as possible…

"I don't like boys! I hate boys! I'm a boy-hater! I mean, sure, I don't mind guys who like other guys and I support that they can do it with whomever they want, but I'm not one of them! I want a woman! Women! I-like-women! Women, women, women! Have you ever seen me ogle a man at the beach? Never! My eyes always draw to the woman by his side! I ignore the chiselled chest and washboard abs and go straight to the swinging hips and bouncing breasts on the woman! ON THE WOMAN! THE WOMAN!"

"… Ah, point taken. You like women."

The ranger student groaned, returning his face back to its normally neutral features, "By the gods, is this why Harrah is so vicious towards me? Because she thinks I stole you from her?"

"That reason is sound."

"… You!" Valygar almost spat. "This is the third time you've done this!"

Yoshimo's roguish grin slammed back to full strength, "And it's worked everytime!" and upon seeing the murderous light being stoked in his friend's eyes he quickly added, "I apologize that you must suffer in my stead, you have my word it shall not happen again. I am honoured to call you friend. Come, I'll buy you lunch as I will gift upon you free advice to improve on your very dismal love life."

"… What did I ever do to you?"

SCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCU

In one of the many gymnasiums dotted around campus, the wrestling team was having a practice. Bodies were being routinely tossed violently to the ground much to the glee and yet dissatisfaction of a verbally abusive coach.

WHAM!

"Ye pot-bellied sloths! Ye weak-willed worms! I told ye tae _slam_ 'im intae the floor, nay tae lay 'im gently down! None o' ye are leavin' 'till I see cracked backs an' broken teeth, be that un'erstood?!"

"YES SIR, COACH BLOODAXE, SIR!" came the loud responses despite the bruising lungs they issued from.

This particular gymnasium where bodily harm was being committed was shaped like a domed coliseum, The Pit, as it is affectionately called, was very much akin to the gladiatorial pits of the larger cities. Spikes, who no one could ever discern their purpose for existing, jutted out randomly throughout the gymnasium. The dank odour of sweat and dirt seemed a permanent fixture in the place.

On one side, apart from the practice area were various free weights and exercise machines lying around meant to keep the student's bodies in perfectly muscular condition. However, there failed to be a communication of information that regular maintenance was required and thus the exercise area remained mostly untouched ever since one student had received brain damage from a pair of weights that had slipped from the bar he was lifting.

A perfectly circular area, the arena gives way to eight foot stonewalls with entrances on four sides, covered with banners meant to lift school spirits with catchy slogans like "Terror-ific!" "Go For Number WIN!" and "We BELIEVE In You!"

Needless to say, the banners served more to embarrass than to uplift.

Rising upwards to the metallic sheen of the domed roof, the stone seats were dotted with spectators who had the spare time witness the practice unfold. Instead of padded flooring, packed dirt served to 'cushion' the combatants should they take a fall.

And there was a lot of falling.

Amidst the thud of bodies and grappling arms stood an intimidating dwarf, his shirtless body proudly displaying a haze of old battle scars criss-crossing across thick muscles. Coach Bloodaxe rolled his eyes in disgust at one display of a double-armed suplex demonstrated in front of him.

"Ilvastarr! Ilvastarr, ye trout-gutted toad! What in the Nine Hells be that? An' if'n ye says that were to be a double-armed suplex I'll have ye lickin' the blood off o' the floor with yer tongue!"

The young wrestler gulped back his response quickly.

"Oi! Answer me, ye puddle-bathin' mama's boy!"

Panic set in, the wrestler jumbling thoughts of the pros and cons of answering.

"Better answer the coach, Ajantis!" a voice called out from one of his team mates.

"Ye damned well better!"

"Uh… that was… ummm… a… double-armed suplex?" his answer sounding more like a pleading question.

"…"

"…"

"… What did ye say?"

"D-d-double… armed… suplex?"

"Ye dare? Ye dare!? Ye dare call that a double-armed suplex? It not even be worthy enough tae be called a hug! What kind o' sorry excuse fer a wrestlin' combatant be ye? I'll not have ye disgrace the noble double-armed suplex wi' yer 'orrible attempts o' mockery, ye monkey-breathed layabout! Aarg! I'm goin' tae beat ye, there be a fongin' in store for ye, ye limp wooded, toad kissin'…!"

The rest of the wrestling team continued sparring around the pair, the coach's furious tirade not only a common occurrence at practices but was practically an ingrained part of their training program.

As Coach Bloodaxe continued to batter and destroy what was left of Ajantis's ego, another group of wrestlers were having a serious strategic and tactical discussion on how to proceed with practice in such a course that would best prepare them for the future.

"It's your turn!"

"No, it ain't, it's yours!"

"It's Ferrel's!"

"Don't you line me up for execution, Morgle! If it's anybody's turn, it's yours!"

"Nine Hells, all's I knows is t'ain't gonna be me!"

"Forget it, Trolloven, you haven't gone in ages, you're next!"

"Look, all I know is that it's not my turn!"

"Not me!"

"Yes, you!"

"No, you!"

"You!"

"No, you!"

"You-!"

"SILENCE, FOOLS!" a voice like painful death rumbled.

As one, the group of wrestlers gulped visibly, turning their shaken attention to the lone figure standing to the side, his heavily muscled arms akimbo in front of him.

"Uh, captain, we were just, uh, strategizing…"

"If one of you does not come forward to practice spar with me soon, I will destroy all of you at once."

The group paled, a few of them almost losing bladder control. Sarevok Anchev, captain of Sword Coast University's wrestling team never joked.

Grim determination overtook the wrestlers. They looked at each other, the unspoken agreement between team mates personifying an age old tradition of strength and honour.

"Well, lads, there's only one thing left to do."

Nods of agreement were exchanged, fists held out in salute.

"On three. One…"

Concentration etched their faces…

"… Two…"

… as well as the desire to retain usage of all their limbs.

"… Three!"

"ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS!"

SCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCU

He found her sitting alone on one of the benches beside the artificial pond. Despite the large area of Pimlico's Square, she was easily identifiable from the far opposite side by her distinctive braided blonde hair.

Cernd watched her a moment longer, slowly drinking in the image she presented.

The young woman was leaning casually against the bench, her long legs crossed at the ankles laid along the seat. Posture that could be interpreted as either relaxed or defeated.

Her clothes were plain though with a light fashionable flair, green breeches and tunic with brown leather lacings. Every so often a breeze would flutter her hair while she remained unmindful of it.

What really culled his attention was her lack of it. There was a book held in her hands and her eyes did roam the words. Yet she was missing that air of someone who paid attention or cared what they were doing.

He wondered about her a bit longer before he finally took a step forward.

"Cernd."

Surprised the young druid turned towards the voice, "Professor Keldorn?"

The tall, smiling man walking towards him immediately commanded his attention. The professor wore gleaming armour with light border patterns decorating it that was obviously well cared for. The man was well groomed, a head full of dark grey hair and a trimmed beard. A strong yet kind face, aged gracefully with experience held deep blue eyes that pierced right into him.

What got most people about Keldorn Firecam were those eyes that told of a lifetime of serving as a paladin of Torm. The professor not only oozed dignity and wisdom, he practically attracted respect.

"How are you doing, lad? It's been a while since we last saw one another. I trust you've had a good summer?"

Cernd could not help but smile at his former professor. Keldorn Firecam was one of the few who taught a course that most students actually were eager to attend. What really garnered the students' admiration was that the professor not only made the effort to learn everybody's name but that he actually still remembered who they were even after they only took one of his classes or they graduated.

"Professor Keldorn, it has indeed been a while. I would say before the flowers blossomed this year. My summer was as joyous as the notes of a nightingale or the first snowflake to flutter earthwards. I feel it did my soul wonders to walk amongst the woods of my home again like the return of the soaring birds after winter ends."

"Heheh," the professor chuckled, "Your youthful enthusiasm for all things of this world has always been a privilege to witness. I do so wonder why you've never bothered to take another one of my courses? Have I really offended you that much with my boorish lectures?"

Cernd grinned wider, knowing that his former professor was only joking. Professor Keldorn taught a series of courses separate from the Department of Druidism. In his second year Cernd only enrolled in one of them in order to satisfy his curiosity about the professor that everybody on campus praised above all others.

Needless to say, the young druid never regretted enrolling for the class though he does regret never signing up for the others.

"Unfortunately, professor, your courses would not have accounted towards my graduation requirements and schooling fees have always been a concern of my folks."

"Ah, to think that my lecture halls are deprived of intelligent minds like yours because of a little thing like coin," Keldorn Firecam bantered.

"It's true, it is an irony we must all live with. We're taught that all we need in life is all around us, yet in order to fully appreciate the gift of nature we must pay to learn how it'd best suit our senses."

"Good to know I've taught you something."

Out of the corner of his eyes Cernd spotted the young woman getting up and walking away.

"I'm sorry professor but there's something I've been meaning to do," the young druid said as he made to follow her.

He suddenly felt a firm grip on his shoulder. Turning around Cernd was surprised to see the sadness in his former professor's eyes.

"I've had a long life, young Cernd, filled with as much loss as joy. I've seen the broken spirits of many a comrade and I pray that you never drown in sorrow as they have," Professor Keldorn then stared thoughtfully at the young woman walking away, "I have also seen inner strength the likes of which I could only ever hope to achieve."

Cernd did not even bother asking how the professor just seemed to _know_, "I… I just want to help."

Professor Keldorn then grasped both his shoulders, his tone an urgent kindness, "And you shall, young Cernd, you shall… but not now. Her pain is the kind that cannot be smothered with overzealous sympathy for it shall only serve to fan the flames," he paused momentarily, the compassion strong in his voice, "Jaheira is stronger than she appears but I also know that it is a fragile strength. She will resist your comfort no matter how long you offer it until eventually she'll harden herself enough to forever forget compassion."

"She shouldn't have to go at this alone."

"No, she won't. You're a determined one, aren't you? I remember those passionate debates you so enthusiastically challenged the class with. It's always admirable to see students with so much faith and conviction in their beliefs."

"I thought they were arguments."

"… _Debates_. Ahem. I do not argue that she should not be alone. However, I know Jaheira better than you think. What she needs is someone to walk beside her, not to carry her," Professor Keldorn thought carefully, "As you would say, to be a… a mother hen… to her chickens… would be… to smother their… feathers…"

Cernd smirked, "Even I find that to be a poor metaphor."

"Yes, well, we all can't be as poetic as you, Cernd," the professor smiled sadly, "What I want you to understand is that Jaheira needs a friend now… not a hero."

The young druid nodded silently, his eyes never leaving the figure that was never before so alone.

SCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCUSCU

"OH GODS!! BONE! I CAN SEE MY BONE! WHY CAN I SEE MY BONE!?"

"Quiet your pathetic mewling, weakling, and get yourself to a cleric."

Cradling his very broken arm, the unfortunate wrestler sobbed as he dragged himself to the healer, his ashen faced friends watching in silent horror.

Sarevok remained impassive, his massive frame posed with all the forbidding power of someone who crippled grown men as a hobby. Inwardly he was very frustrated. It seemed that during every practice at least one person broke a bone or damaged their internal organs when facing him. If he could not find anybody who could last one round or at least remain reasonably hale and hearty, he would never be able to advance his skills.

_Is there no one else?_ he thought without hope.

"Sarevok! Did I jes' see Trolloven crawl 'is pathetic self tae the healer? Has he gots a bone stickin' out o' his arm?"

"Yes sir, Coach Bloodaxe, sir."

"… Har har! Excellent! I always knew ye'd be able tae whip these pansy-daisies intae shape when I made ye cap'n. An' that be what I want ye tae do wi' this here crummuffin."

Sarevok did not even bat an eyebrow, "… Who, sir?"

"Whaddye mean…?" the coach began before realizing he was standing alone.

Furiously annoyed, Coach Bloodaxe whirled around until he found who he was looking for by the weight training equipment. The person in question was busy staring in awe at his surroundings until he heard the very enraged scream of his new coach.

"YE STUPID MONGREL FED IDJIT! GET YER DUMB ARSE O'ER HERE NOW!!"

"Oh, I am most sorry, coach!"

"AN' IT BE COACH BLOODAXE TO YE, YE SLOP STOMACH!"

As the person bashfully made his way over, Sarevok this time did slightly raise one eyebrow.

_It seems the gods see fit to grant my wish._

The goofily smiling newcomer introduced himself, "Hello, comrade! I am Minsc and-!"

"AND YE DON'T IGNORE ME!"

Confusion was clearly evident in Minsc's response, "But have we already met?"

"ARE YE KIDDIN'? I'M YER BLOODY COACH!"

Despite the obvious lack of common sense, Sarevok detected massive potential with the new wrestler. Minsc was a bear of a man with a few scars showing that he was no stranger to battle.

More than one wrestler present wet themselves in fear when they saw the apocalyptic grin of Sarevok Anchev.


End file.
